The migration was going fine until they reached a fork in the road, and then all hell broke loose.
The higher you climb the social ladder, the more complex the place settings get at dinner parties.
All he needed was a knife. But it still wasn't ironic. Just annoying.
Worst. Superpower. Ever.
Indypanda Jones looked carefully, until he found one wooden spoon among the other gleaming utensils. He dipped the spoon into the honey pot and ate from it. The elder bear replied, "You have chosen ... wisely."
I have just one word to describe this scene: Stirring!
The Three Bears liked to keep a trophy of each little girl that fell for their porridge trap.
The louder he proclaimed his honesty, the more quickly my silverware fled.
I love spooning after a great fork.
That waiter shouldn't be expecting a tip.
No Alanis, it's still not ironic.
"One for every eyeball extracted," thought Billy.
I'll never understand Guy Fawkes Day celebrations.
...And then, rights as the creepy kid in the bear suit starts to turn around, I wake up.
I TOLD YOU NOT TO BRING ANY METAL WHILE MOMMY WAS GETTING HER MRI